So, for those of you who haven't been following me on tumblr or insta where I post my art, this AU has been a long time coming lol. I started doing the character art and headcanons for a part 5 vampire hunter au a couple years ago by now and am FINALLY getting the chance to start writing something for it and I am so excited. I have had way too much fun working on this and I hope you all enjoy it because there's more stories coming.
Quick disclaimer: this AU is set in the victorian era for extra gothic vibes (and lovely clothing) but I do not promise historical accuracy. This is mostly just for fun and it is also a supernatural au so it's not meant to be historical.
Brief content warning for this one in particular: there is mentions of children being killed in the case they're working but none of it is actually shown in the story.
Anyway, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy the beginning of this AU! 3
Hunters and Hunted
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
(Vampire Hunter AU) Giorno is a dhampir in a world where there are vampires and those that hunt them. When the ghoul Leaky-Eyed Luca takes things too far, Giorno is forced to take him out, but now he has an infamous Hunter on his trail and his only options might be to join this man as an ally or be killed as an enemy.
Part One
It was not recommended to walk at night unless you were a Hunter or one of the things that they hunted. Giorno Giovanna supposed he fell into the latter category, especially tonight as he had a particular reason to be out.
The falling evening felt good on his face, close, comforting around him. It was easier to move through a crowd without notice, to slip his fingers into the occasional pocket of an unsuspecting gentleman hurrying home before the real monsters began to appear. Even those who pretended not to believe that vampires and other creatures of the sort didn't exist made sure to make it behind closed doors by the time the sun fully left the horizon.
"Did you hear?" said the hushed voices on the street. "Another girl was found dead—just a little thing. You think it was vam—"
"Shh! It's not our problem to speculate on. If it is, it will be dealt with…"
Giorno paused briefly to riffle through the coin purses, filling his pockets with the money before tossing them aside, smiling with satisfaction. He'd had a good haul the last few days, enough to see him through the next month of expenses.
Now for the other thing…
He moved around the corner and collided with something that let out a small squeak. He instinctively reached out to steady the young woman, probably little older than he was.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, signore," she stuttered, blushing.
"No harm done. I should have been looking where I was going. The fault is all mine, signorina," Giorno replied apologetically. This close, he could see the flutter of a pulse in the girl's pale throat, and he had to force himself to release his hold on her instead of pulling her closer and…
Her companion took the girl's hand and pulled her along. "Come on, Angelina, we need to get home."
"She's right, it's dangerous to be out after dark," Giorno said with a gallant smile. "Do be careful on your way home."
The girls nodded and hurried off, hailing one of the many cabs on the street. Some nights Giorno also ran a cab—there was a man he borrowed one from to make a little extra money—but tonight he had other priorities that were making themselves more and more known the lower the sun dropped below the horizon line.
The hunger gnawed at his stomach—a constant reminder; and his hands were beginning to shake as well. He had to feed tonight. He'd tried to stave off the hunger but when he got this bad, regular food only made him ill. There was only one thing that could make him feel better now.
He glanced down the street and saw a young girl standing on the corner with a basket of full of flowers, looking around anxiously.
Giorno furrowed his brow and crossed over to her. She looked up with a slight jump but he smiled.
"You shouldn't be out this late, especially right now," he told her as he reached into his pocket and pulled out enough money to cover her sales for the next couple nights. "Please take this and go home."
The girl gratefully tucked the money away and offered him the basket. Giorno smiled and took one posy to stick in his buttonhole. "Take the rest to your mother, don't linger out here in the dark."
"Thank you, signore," the girl said gratefully and hurried off.
The night breeze washed by him, cooling his slightly clammy brow as Giorno continued through the dark streets, cautious of his surroundings, constantly watching, because though he wasn't exactly human, there were things more powerful than him out there.
"Signore Giovanna, out late again?"
Giorno looked up to see a familiar shop owner closing up for the night. He smiled somewhat flippantly.
"I have business out. I wish you a good night and safe journey home, signore," he called.
"You too," the man replied with some concern.
Giorno continued on toward less savory parts of the city, hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat. His outfit had all been carefully tailored so that he wouldn't stand out unnecessarily, but he still had the look of means about him. A young man from a well-to-do family pushing out on his own. It was a ruse, of course, but one that seemed easy for people to believe. It kept him safe from suspicion. Better for the observers to think he was simply going to gamble or drink away his parents' money like the other young men did than his true intentions out in the dark.
"Well then, is this the little blond brat everyone's been telling me about?"
Giorno froze as a figure melted out of the alley as he passed.
"Giorno Giovanna, right?" the figure continued, appearing now in a swatch of light from the closest gas-lamp. There was an ominous scrape against the bricks as he dragged a shovel behind him—well-used and not just for digging up graves, Giorno suspected.
He reached up with a handkerchief to swipe under his right eye as tears leaked from it unprovoked.
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Giorno said, straightening his shoulders.
The man—or rather the ghoul, judging by his smell of death—sneered in derision. "Don't play dumb, boy. You know well enough who I am, and ya better get it right before I take this shovel t'yer skull."
"Hmm…well," Giorno muttered, debating, as he tapped his chin. "Judging from your appearance I would say you're probably the infamous Leaky-Eyed Luca."
A sniff and another swipe of the handkerchief. "So you do know me then, eh? If that's so, then ya must also know that this is my territory."
Giorno furrowed his brow. "Really? I was not aware this territory belonged to you—or any ghoul, for that matter."
Luca's eyes flashed in fury and he moved quick, slamming Giorno up against the wall of the alley, the handle of his shovel shoved up under the young man's chin. Now in the dark, Luca's eyes shown like that of a dog, no longer mistakable for a human.
"Yer a bold one for sure, ya little pissant," Luca snarled. "So let me teach you yer place on the foodchain. Anyone who pick-pockets or steals in my territory owes me a tribute. You've been working these streets for a while now, haven't ya? So that would be a substantial payment there. Since you're a first-time offender, I'd be willing to give you until tomorrow night to gather the funds. And if ya can't…well, I'll be happy to deduct the cost from yer flesh." He licked his lips.
Giorno was unfazed, staring down the handle of the shovel at the ghoul. "Aren't I a little warm for your liking, or are you one of those ghouls who pretends to be better than others by eating live victims?"
Luca ground his teeth as he forced the shovel more firmly against Giorno's windpipe. "You really are a little shit, aren't ya? Maybe I should just teach you a lesson—see how well you can pick-pocket if I take a hand."
He pulled the shovel back to turn it around and swing the head toward Giorno.
Giorno's instincts kicked in and he dodged swiftly, ducking in to grab the pole of the shovel and shove Luca back against the opposite wall, the shovel pressed up against his chest.
"To be honest, I don't like your kind much," Giorno said. "I've never met a ghoul that wasn't scum, but you might be the worst of them all. As a counter to your offer, I'll offer you a deal as well: You can let me go on my way, or…" Luca blinked and Giorno was sure he could see the crimson pooling in his eyes, the glint of a fang as his lip curled. "It's been over a month since I fed."
Luca didn't say anything, didn't make a move at all. Giorno stayed in the same position for a long moment, staring him in the eye, before he finally pulled away, releasing his hold on the shovel. "I'll take that as your cooperation, then," he said as he turned to go on his way.
It was barely a second later when he felt a shift behind him and spun around to meet Luca's furious face. Giorno quickly deflected the shovel against his arm, pushing it aside, and then lunged forward to sink his fangs into Luca's neck.
The rush of hot blood washed over his tongue as Luca let out a gasping gurgle, the shovel falling from slack fingers with a definitive clatter a few seconds later as he weakened.
Giorno finished with a final swallow and dropped the body on the ground, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth with a cringe. Ghoul blood was definitely not the best tasting, but it would have the same effect and he had given Luca fair warning. Giorno's body shook with renewed energy and satisfaction as he stepped over the ghoul's body and made his way off into the night. He decided he would take the night tram back to the side of the city his apartment was on, and then he would finally get a good sleep.
However, he was unaware of the man lurking in the shadows, watching.
Bruno Bucciarati had been investigating this part of town for the past few nights, trying to find whatever had been killing flower girls. He'd had a tip that it might have something to do with one of Leaky-Eyed Luca's men, so he was currently trying to track down the ghoul to get some answers.
Thus it was particularly surprising to find the object of his investigation lying dead in an alleyway.
Bucciarati pulled out a box of matches and lit one as he crouched by the body, brow furrowed. It was definitely Luca, with the iconic leaking right eye.
The match sputtered and he lit another, holding it close to the spot on Luca's neck where two puncture wounds could be seen, still dripping a bit of blood.
Bucciarati shook the match out, seeing all he needed to, and strode off into the night after the blond-haired stranger.
Giorno entered the tram as it stopped at the platform and took the first available cabin, closing the door behind him and slumping into the seat. He felt much better after feeding, but drinking so much blood at once made him tired, almost hungover. He hoped he could stay awake long enough to get off at his stop.
He was startled as the door to his cabin was suddenly opened and a man in a dark cloak and top hat stepped inside, offering a friendly smile.
"Apologies for the intrusion—all the other seats were taken."
Giorno furrowed his brow, sure that was not true at this time of night. But he said nothing, only nodded amicably toward the seat opposite him. "It's not a problem."
"I appreciate it." The man sat and removed his hat, revealing a dark bob cut sharply at the jaw in a utilitarian way.
Giorno turned to look out the window, hoping the other man wouldn't try to engage hm.
"Signore, if I may."
Giorno glanced back at the man, seeing him handing over a black spotted handkerchief. Giorno stared at it as the man continued to hold it out. "Apologies for my forwardness but you seem to have something on your face." He tapped his chin to indicate.
Brief terror overcame Giorno but he flashed a nonchalant smile, quickly snatching the handkerchief and pressing it against his mouth. "Ah, thank you, signore, that's quite embarrassing."
The man chuckled. "Don't worry. It's our secret." The tram came to a stop and he stood, picking up his hat. "This is my stop. Good evening."
He left the cabin and Giorno suddenly pulled the handkerchief away from his face. "Um, signore, you—"
Something heavy slipped from between the folds of fabric and Giorno caught it instinctively.
The object burned his palm and he gasped, dropping it onto the floor, seeing a small silver crucifix lying on the ground.
Panic and nausea roiled inside of him as he staggered to his feet and lunged toward the door of the cabin.
He flung it open only to be confronted by the man, waiting for him outside, catching Giorno's arm in a firm grip as he tried to pass him.
"Don't make a scene," the man said low, dangerous. Giorno's eyes went to his other hand that rested on the hilt of a sword that had been concealed by his cloak up to that point. That in addition to the large golden cross and chain he wore hanging from his jacket told Giorno that this man was a Hunter.
And if he didn't think of something soon, he would likely be killed.
"Let's get off here—I'm sure you don't want any civilians to get hurt if this turns into a fight?"
Giorno pressed his lips together into a thin line, but numbly allowed the Hunter to maneuver him toward the doors of the tram. The man's grip was like iron, and Giorno was frantically thinking of how he was going to get out of this.
"I don't really understand, officer, did I do something wrong?" Giorno finally asked, playing stupid.
The man snorted as he pushed Giorno onto the platform. "Don't play dumb. I'm sure you know I'm not a constable. I've been following you since you took out Luca. Considering that even a vampire down on his luck would hardly consider drinking a ghoul, I'm assuming you're a dhampir. And a dhampir that just fed—which means that you're sluggish; an easy kill for a Hunter such as myself."
The tram whistled and started on its way again. Giorno waited until it was away from the platform to make his move.
He kicked out, aiming for one of the man's knees, and causing him to stagger with a grunt. It was enough to loosen his grip and allow Giorno to free himself, leaping down onto the track and rushing to the other side.
The Hunter swore and threw his cloak over one shoulder, drawing his sword as he followed him. "I suppose we're doing this the hard way, then?"
Giorno didn't glance over his shoulder, he simply ran, pulling himself up onto the opposite platform as he heard the Hunter hit the tracks below. A hand grabbed the back of his coat and yanked him down where he struck his shoulder hard. Giorno lashed out with a foot, catching the man in the hip and shoving him backwards as he scrambled to his feet.
The man was on him again almost instantly and Giorno soon realized the Hunter was obviously the better fighter, especially since he had been right—Giorno was sluggish with a full belly of blood. Tomorrow he would be at his peak, but for now…
The Hunter lashed out with the hilt of his saber and it caught Giorno in the jaw, sending him reeling. He staggered and the Hunter finally caught him, hauling him back against him with his blade pressed to Giorno's throat.
"How long have you been feeding in Luca's territory?" he asked.
Giorno swallowed hard against the silver-infused blade currently burning his skin. "I don't usually feed here. I try to change it up—I only feed on ghouls or scum. I don't attack civilians."
"And you expect me to believe that?" the Hunter growled, tightening his grip on Giorno. "The only reason you're still alive is because I need information."
Giorno suddenly saw an out. He turned on his more cordial tone and stopped struggling. "You're asking about the flower girl murders, aren't you?"
The Hunter froze behind him and for a brief moment his grip wavered. Giorno didn't make a move though; he had a feeling he could talk his way out of this one.
"What do you know about that?" the man demanded.
Giorno tilted his head back slightly to avoid the blade. "I know it wasn't Luca, who was my initial suspect before I heard that the bitemarks were more akin to a vampire. Not much I can do about a full-blooded vampire though."
"You've been investigating this too?" the Hunter asked, sounding incredulous.
Giorno let out a wry laugh. "You think you Hunters are the only ones who have an interest in protecting the people of the city? My biology simply demands I consume blood. Most of the time I make do with animals. But when I do have to resort to drinking human blood, it's always those who deserve it. You Hunters seem to forget that not all the monsters in this world are supernatural."
The Hunter was silent, but finally he said. "If I were to take this sword away from your throat, would you run?"
"Only if you try to kill me," Giorno replied.
There was a second's pause before the sword slid away from Giorno's throat and he turned to face the man, pressing his fingers to what he assumed was a red mark above his cravat. The Hunter still held his sword ready at his side, but was not poised to attack.
"What is your name, dhampir?" he asked.
"Giovanna—Giorno Giovanna."
The man nodded. "You are right, Giovanna. Humans can also be just as monstrous as those that lurk in the dark. Are you truly interested in making this city safer?"
Giorno straightened. "I am. It's what I've wanted since I realized I was different than normal people."
The man finally sheathed his sword and extended his gloved hand. "Then I offer you a place in my organization, if you want it."
Giorno was shocked. "You want me…to be a hunter."
"It is not uncommon for your kind to join my side," the man smiled and it had an underlying warmth to it. "We are only here to keep the balance between good and evil, not destroy the supernatural entirely. If you can help me find the flower girl murderer, then we can talk about future jobs—and I promise you won't have to starve yourself for lack of feeding opportunities."
Giorno wasn't entirely sure he could trust this man, but…there was no malice in his eyes. He was not one of those Hunters who only lusted for blood and would kill a dhampir for walking on the same side of the street as they did. Giorno's life had made him a good judge of character.
He reached out and clasped the man's hand.
"Very well. I'll take your offer, but only if I'm treated as an equal member of your team, not as a servant."
"I promise you will not be used as a servant," the Hunter told him. "As for your place on my team, that will be up to you and how you work with the others. All of my members have to prove themselves worthy of their positions."
"That's fair enough," Giorno responded.
The man pulled his hand away and reached into his coat pocket. "I'm Bruno Bucciarati, by the way." He handed Giorno a calling card. "You can find me at this address tomorrow around noon. We can further discuss the current case, and I'll introduce you to my team."
Giorno nodded and took the card from him.
"I look forward to seeing you there, Giorno Giovanna, I have a feeling you'll fit right in."
The man turned with a swirl of his cloak and crossed the tracks again, picking up his fallen hat as he did so.
Giorno glanced at the card, seeing an address written on the back. He tucked the card into his pocket and headed back toward his apartment on foot, hoping to get a good night sleep.
He had a lot to think about.
Giorno slept like a rock, full and satisfied. He felt much better when he woke in the morning, no more of that sick hunger that would leave him vomiting his bread and fruit as his other side rejected it. He dressed carefully in his good burgundy waistcoat with brocade designs on it and added his favorite ladybug pin to the ruffled cravat at his throat, carefully covering the red mark that still shown on his pale skin from Bucciarati's sword the night before.
As he pulled on his black frockcoat, he had a brief through that this could be a trap. That he could walk into this meeting only to be captured and tortured for information he didn't know. But there had been something sincere about Bucciarati. Giorno liked to think of himself as a good judge of character—he had to be to survive—and he could tell that this Hunter indeed stood for true justice as Giorno also did. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to actually do some true good instead of just acting as a vigilante to make himself feel better about consuming blood.
The address on the card led him to a restaurant. The smell of fresh baked goods and pasta filled the air and Giorno was hungry for real food for the first time in days. He made his way inside and a man in a smart serving uniform greeted him.
"Welcome, signore, do you have a reservation?"
Giorno glanced around briefly before he handed over the card Bucciarati had given him. "I'm actually here to meet with Signore Bucciarati."
"Ah, of course," the footman said. "This way, signore."
Giorno followed him to the back of the restaurant where there was a side room and a large table away from the rest of the dining room.
Giorno was surprised to see that it was already occupied by four men. Two of them were in some kind of heated argument, a young ash blond man with glasses was practically stabbing the pages of a book with a finger to prove some point to his companion, a dark-haired boy with a scruffy appearance in just his shirtsleeves.
"It doesn't work like that, Narancia!" the blond was saying.
"But why not?"
"Because science doesn't work like that, how many times do I have to hammer these things into your thick skull?"
On the other side of the table sat a tall, silver-haired man with dark makeup, dressed all in black. He was leaning back with his eyes closed and arms folded over his chest as if he were somehow sleeping through the ruckus. Beside him sat another man who seemed to be having a conniption over the tray of cake.
"I keep telling them not to bring four slices! Don't they know it's bad luck?"
"What do you expect Mista, there's four of us sitting here!" the frustrated blond said as he slammed his book shut, seeming to give up on whatever point he was trying to make.
"So? We asked for a selection with the tea, they didn't have to give us four of everything!"
"Just don't eat it then!"
"But the strawberry cake is my favorite!"
Giorno stood there, not sure if he should announce himself or not. Luckily, the dark-haired boy turned around and spotted him.
"Oh, hello! You must be the new trainee Bucciarati told us about."
Everyone stopped talking then and turned to look at Giorno, even the tall man cracked open violet eyes and gave him a judgmental once-over.
Giorno straightened and gave a small bow. "That's right. I'm Giorno Giovanna. I apologize if I'm early…"
"It's not a problem," the man dressed in black said, straightening up and taking hold of the teapot. "How about you sit and have a cup of tea…Giorno, was it?"
Giorno, admittedly cautious, moved to the free seat beside the man and saw him tucking a small flask back into his coat pocket. Suspicion rose further as Giorno noticed the rest of the table watching while the man stirred cream and sugar into the cup and slid it over to Giorno, meeting his eyes firmly.
"Well? Have a drink then. It would be rude to refuse."
"Abbacchio—" the dark-haired boy started but the blond hissed at him and he shut up.
"Thank you," Giorno said and took up the cup, raising it toward his lips.
He inhaled the steam rising from the cup, and felt it burn the inside of his nose, confirming his suspicions. Holy water might not affect dhampir as much as vampires or other full-blooded supernatural beings, but it would be unpleasant to drink. Like taking a sip of scalding hot tea.
"If you'll forgive me, however," Giorno said as he slowly lowered the cup back onto the saucer. "I take my tea with sugar only. And you might want to talk to the waiter because the tea here seems to be a little watered down."
It was hard for Giorno not to feel satisfied by the surprised rage that washed over the man's face as he said it and it didn't help that the dark-haired boy and the other man who had been complaining about the cake started snickering.
"Hey, I like him," the man said with a grin and leaned over the table to offer Giorno his hand. "I'm Guido Mista. Would you like some cake? We'll get some new tea as well." He called the waiter over and asked for a new pot.
Giorno smiled. "Thank you."
"Just ignore Abbacchio, he's always grumpy," the dark-haired boy said and indeed ignored the tall man as he snarled at him. "I'm Narancia Ghirga, and this is Pannacotta Fugo."
"Nice to meet you," the blond said in a businesslike manner.
Another figure entered the room and Giorno turned to see that it was Bucciarati, removing his hat and gloves as he stepped in. He was no longer wearing his cloak, but rather a blue tailed coat with black trousers and riding boots. He didn't look quite as intimidating in the daylight, but Giorno knew it was nothing but a deception. The way he carried himself hinted that he could be ready to fight at a moment's notice.
"I apologize for being late, I stopped to see Polpo," Bucciarati said and noticed Giorno. "Ah, so you did show up. Did everyone introduce themselves?"
Narancia snickered, causing Bucciarati's brow to furrow, but Giorno smiled at Bucciarati with a nod. "Yes. Abbacchio was just getting me a cup of tea."
The fury that crossed over the man's face, black lip curling, gave Giorno more satisfaction than it probably should if he was expected to work with this man. But Bucciarati shot Abbacchio a look that made him seethe more silently, and took a seat just as the waiter came with the new pot of tea.
"Gentlemen," Bucciarati said and the others all turned to him attentively. "Our newest case is going to be hunting down the monster that is killing flower girls in the southern part of the city. Giorno has been doing an investigation of his own, which is why I brought him in on this."
"So he's a consultant?" Abbacchio asked.
"My hope was that if he wishes, once this case is done, he can become a full member of the team," Bucciarati replied firmly.
"So we're letting monsters in among our ranks now?" Abbacchio scoffed.
Giorno tried to keep a straight face as the others all turned to him with slightly guilty expressions, telling him they didn't entirely disagree with the sentiment.
Bucciarati looked furious. He opened his mouth to say something but Giorno cut in.
"It's all right. I understand your concerns. However, though I am a dhampir, I have the same concerns and motivations as you all do. I just want an opportunity to protect the people in this city. Even I wouldn't be here today without people like you. I hope you'll all reserve your judgement until you get to know me better."
Bucciarati offered a smile and a nod. "Exactly. Giorno is aware he needs to earn his place amongst us like all of you did. But I would be grateful if you would all allow him the chance to do so."
Abbacchio scoffed and stood. "Do what you want. If you'll excuse me, I have reports to finish."
Bucciarati sighed tiredly and took a tea sandwich from the tray. "I apologize on behalf of Abbacchio.
"It's all right. I'm sure it's a bit to adjust to…having a monster on your team," Giorno replied nonchalantly.
Narancia leaned over the table toward him. "Well, I'm excited actually! We finally get our own supernatural team member! Do you have fangs—agh!"
Fugo slapped him across the back of the head with a warning scowl, but Giorno smiled. "Not all the time." He looked across the table at Bucciarati. "When does the investigation start?"
"This evening," Bucciarati told him and took a notepad and pen from a pocket. "Come to our headquarters around 8 p.m. Here's the address."
Giorno took the note and tucked it into his pocket. "I'll be there."
"Good." Bucciarati said. "We're glad to have you on the team, Giorno Giovanna."
